Waiting
by ratatatkat
Summary: England wants to teach Scotland a lesson, but the older brother has other ideas.


"…because it's not okay with me." England finished as he walked angrily into his living room.

It was a vast, beautiful room with a high ceiling and wide windows that was usually empty.

But not today. Today, Scotland was here; England had "invited him for tea". What he really wished to do was to chastise him because Scotland's boss had approved a new legislature that re-definined borders without England's permission.

"Like I give a damn what's _okay with you, _Arthur." Scotland spat, trailing England's heels. He had previously insisted that "tea is for fags anyway" and was only here to "find out what the fuck you actually want."

"I know you don't care," England sighed, tested. He stopped near one of the walls and turned to face Scotland, eyes closed and arms crossed. "but I am still technically in charge, and you're going to have to respect my opinion if you want to stay in union with me."

"Tch." Scotland's fuse had been lit. It was a short fuse, leading to a rather large bomb. "Newsflash, dipshit, I _don't _want to stay in union with you, and it's been that way for about, oh, _forever_."

England opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't find words, only frustration. _I can't believe it, _he thought sarcastically, _my own brother is almost as stupid as Alfred._

Finally, he decided what to say, even though he hadn't put a lot of thought into what it would do for his brother's temper.

"This is all just a game to you, isn't it?"

England's eyes flew open as he heard the words in the air, and instantly wish he could withdraw them.

Scotland smiled sadistically, outright amused. The fire had inched its way on along his fuse, and was now dangerously close to the bomb.

He sensed England's fear, and advanced on him, like a hungry cat that just found a defenseless mouse. "A _game?_" Scotland said roughly. He smile grew wider as he finished the sentence.

"Y-yes…" England staggered backwards towards the wall. He decided he couldn't falter, because he knew all too well Scotland lived for the weakness of others.

"A game, huh…" Scotland continued. He advanced until England's back had been pressed against the wall, then stopped, his hands clenched at his sides.

England was terrified now, he was cornered and wanted to escape. He ducked ever so slightly to the side…

But Scotland's left leg suddenly shot up and he slammed his foot against the wall, blocking the nation's escape route. The entire mansion shook, and England looked up to see his chandelier rocking with the force of the kick. He stared helplessly at Scotland.

Scotland narrowed his eyes and spoke.

"So, if this is a game, then let's play."

He raised his right arm and clenched fist. His smile now revealed his teeth, and his green eyes stared intently back at England.

Scotland threw his weight into his shoulder and drove his fist forward, aimed right at England's face.

England cringed sharply and closed his eyes again; he didn't want to see it coming.

Arthur waited for pain, waited for words, waited for something. He didn't feel Scotland's fist or any evidence he'd been struck. Rather, he finally heard a loud crash, and opened his eyes to examine.

He realized he was on the floor; his legs had buckled beneath him and he avoided Scotland's fist. It barred into the wall above him deeply. The mansion trembled again, this time with much greater force. Trinkets and items fell from the shelves and tables in the room and shattered on the floor.

Scotland's face was frozen, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. He stood in disbelief, and couldn't even grasp what had happened.

_There's no way in hell I missed._ He thought angrily.

England was equally surprised he was still alive, let alone unharmed. Scotland had come very close to flat out killing him a number of times before.

That had also given England an advantage, and he knew all about him and his tendencies, his weaknesses, his strengths…

Scotland had a lot of strengths.

But England he decided he would stop thinking. He jumped up just as Scotland yanked his arm from the wall, and faltered backwards.

Arthur formed a quick fist and threw it forward. He bit his cheek as he realized he found it's target; Scotland's nose.

There was a crack as Scotland's head traveled with the momentum of the punch.

"A_auugh!_" he grunted, and caught himself to wipe his nose. When he examined the blood on his hands, he clenched his eyes shut and yelled at England. "_You son of a bitch!_"

England decided he could win, and went in for another punch.

But Scotland was ready this time.

Before he could realize his mistake, Scotland sidestepped England, grabbed his wrist and used the force of the punch to fling him to the ground.

He narrowly missed the glass coffee table, and landed on his stomach with a powerful _thud_.

"G-guhh…" he muttered, planting his hands on the floor. He tried to find balance, but shook when he put pressure on his arms to get up.

Scotland smiled, amused once again.

"So tell me brother, is it fun?"

He walked to England's side.

"You know, I always thought you were a pussy, but maybe I'm wrong…"

He placed his hand on his hip and raised his eyebrows mockingly.

"Maybe you are tough enough to be my brother. Maybe you just hung around France too much."

England finally grasped himself and began to lift from the floor. But Scotland wasn't done playing.

He clenched his fists, but instead raised a knee above Arthur's back.

The grounded nation was just about to bring a leg around to support himself, when Scotland brought his foot down.

England slammed against the floor once again. Scotland heard a sickening _crunch _and felt his brother's back collapse beneath him.

He had snapped it right in half.

England wailed miserably as he was overcome with pain. He wanted to get up and run, he just wanted to leave before Scotland could do him further damage. But the shock was so intense that he couldn't even move his hands.

He laid there and suffered the pain of death, and yet he could not die. London was still standing, and it would not fall anytime soon. He could do nothing but sit there and wait. Waiting again, waiting for Scotland to end him, waiting for someone to help him, waiting for something to happen…

They were hopelessly alone in the giant room, and Scotland was all too happy with himself.

"Hell, maybe I'm right," he mused.

"Maybe you _are_ weak, maybe you _don't _deserve to be in charge of me…"

He removed his leg, and knelt down to the side of England's face. The elder nation grabbed his younger siblings' hair and jerked his head backwards.

Scotland examined his face; blood was dripping from his eyes and nose and gathering in small pools on the floor. His mouth, which was also leaking blood, had curled into a sneer, and his green pupils swiveled to glare back at him.

Scotland simply closed his eyes, and his smile grew wider when he realized exactly how much damage he'd done. He leaned into his ear and spoke softer, but sharper.

"But, it just so happens," Scotland continued, "that I _am _your older brother, and _you_ have to respect _my _opinion."

He released England's hair, and let his head smack onto the floor once again. Scotland rose, and casually strode to a table near the door where his possessions laid. He withdrew one of his cigarettes, lit it, and brought it to his mouth to take a drag.

On the table also lay the legislature his boss had drafted. He examined the page; it was filled with signatures, including that of himself and his brothers, Wales and Ireland. But there was a blank line, right beneath the signature of England's boss.

"Heh." Scotland grunted. His grin remerged and he grabbed the pen from the table. He hastily scribbled his brother's human name on the blank line…

_Arthur Kirkland_

Pleased, he blew smoke from his cigarette and turned to see England, still motionless on the floor.

"Well, brother…" he announced. "I really must be going, but, it's been fun."

England cringed as Scotland's words rang in his ear. He heard the door open, and then slam shut. He was relieved he had gone, but now he was alone.

He opened his eyes to look around, but all he could see was red. The pain had numbed his entire body, and it radiated from the shattered point on his back.

He didn't want it anymore. He didn't want to be awake anymore, he didn't want to be aware anymore, and he didn't want to be _alive _anymore.

Arthur let his eyes close again, and the darkness returned. He laid there, and waited…


End file.
